The three-strawberry lunch with Samson and Jacob.
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About Me
- dada
- Call me dada. This has, in the few months since my son started "talking," become my name. I'm sure (at least I hope) it will eventually morph into something less early 20th century art movementy --- but I am marked forever as dada. And this is a good thing. I have no real advice to offer, other than always carry Cheerios and extra onesies, and I don't really have a lot of 'wacky' adventures to regale you with. Truth be told, this is as much for me as it is for you. So, uh, thanks for stopping by. I hope it's at least an interesting time-killer. And if not, consider this an ironic exercise in skewering the bourgeouis notions of 21st century American parenthood by deconstructing the materialist ethos that has turned childhood into a demographic and rendered adults simultaneous enablers and slaves. Or something.
Blog Archive
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2005
(128)
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October
(25)
- What's in a name?
- Not quite the gas face
- A sight rarer than Sasquatch
- 32 feet per second per second
- Veritas
- Halloween preview
- Throwdown
- Should we call Zagat's?
- X and O
- Gang of 9
- Peter Parker redux
- From the people who brought you Heart of Darkness
- Does anyone have ESPN's phone number?
- Tickle-me Samson
- Gratuitous Sam pic
- At the farmers' market
- Peter Parker
- Cue the Delilah jokes
- Dolittle
- Lunch meeting: the early years
- The five-second rule
- PJs
- Black and blue
- Long day's journey into night
- ill communications
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October
(25)
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